So yesterday I began to freak out.
I'm e-mailing back and forth with Jack, catching up, and he's informing me about his newly reinstated single status. (He's fabulous and back on the market, ladies!)
So we're talking (writing) about the pros and cons of singlehood and my totally taken state, and he says, "looks like the BF has become more of an F (fiance)."
My eyes flew open and I had one thought:
Suck.
That's an all-purpose curse word blatantly stolen from Lillian.
It hit me. You would think that after the many trips to the jewelry store to "browse" and "get ideas" (the boyfriend is eye-rollingly transparent and should never try to be subtle), it would have already hit me that I am no longer single. You would think that after buying four (count 'em folks, FOUR) magazines for which the entire advertising section is from David's Bridal, that I had no problem accepting that fact. You would think that after taking a trek out to the Boondocks with my sister to look over a charming bed and breakfast that just happens to have a "darling little chapel," I am VERY well resigned to the fact that I will soon be signing checks with a different last name. You would think that the fact that the boyfriend has already asked who gets to choose the restaurant for the rehearsal dinner would clue me in to the fact that the next holiday I celebrate may be with a family other than my own.
However, apparently it took Jack informing me that I would be changing Damian's abbreviation in the blog for me to get it.
I am no longer single.
I am part of a pair.
I have a better half.
I am scared.
Suck.
It's the hugeness of it that frightens me. This is the person I've been waiting for? I'm spending the REST of my LIFE with this person? I will have to share the newspaper with this person EVERY SUNDAY MORNING UNTIL I DIE? (I have conveniently forgotten here that I don't even get a paper on Sundays.) Compound these matters with the whole "virgin waiting for marriage" thing, and you have some idea why the panic attack.
Finally deciding to marry is a big deal. Finally deciding on a specific person to marry is astronomical.
When you finally get to the point that you know you're going to marry someone, there comes a point where the depth of what that means looms before you in a big cloud of doubt and second-guessing.
You suddenly realize that there is one person, and one person only, who is the reward for everything you've ever done right, and the evidence of God's mercy in spite of everything you've ever done wrong. And you'd better be darn sure you picked the right person.
You suddenly realize that there is one person, and one person only, who is the reward for everything you've ever done right, and the evidence of God's mercy in spite of everything you've ever done wrong. And you'd better be darn sure you picked the right person.
The truth is, love is a lot like Chuck E. Cheese. There comes a point in time where you have to cash in your tickets. You have to stand at the counter and weigh all the tickets of singlehood and focus on one prize. And I'm standing there now, deciding between the pink plastic watch and the sliding smiley face puzzle.
